Dark Stars Shine Bright
by ThreeJays
Summary: Post 3x22 - He said he'd leave, but he said a lot of things. In the end, things aren't ever quite what you expect - but they usually end up being exactly like you need them. Damon/Elena - Warnings for language, adult situations, violence, and general bitterness. **ON HIATUS** So sorry, guys, this one's on the shelf. :(
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Don't own it or profit from it. At all. Obviously.

**A/N: Why can't I walk away from this fandom? *cries* I mean, seriously, I don't even like Elena right now. I don't like the show very much. And I absolutely hate that Ric is gone and it looks like Meredith is sticking around. I just...ugh . Just ugh. I'm seriously doubting I'll even watch Season 4. But still.**

**I can't resist them.**

**And I can't resist you! You, fabulous, fabulous people. How can I stay away from you guys? And there are some mind-blowing fics out there, so I'm telling you right now, this one is NOT WORTHY. Like _so_ not worthy. But I can't seem to delete it, so I'm going to send it out. Probably a five parter? Maybe four?**

**Post 3x22. Lots of language, probably some smut, and certainly some violence. Plus...I warn you guys, this is not the friendliest Damon. He's bitter. Or I'm bitter. Either way, it's dark and you might hate it.**

**BUT! New commitment from me. I actually waited to post this until now because I want to reply to reviews! I have massive guilt about not doing it (despite being busy) and despite making it really cumbersome, I'm going to do it today! So, please, please drop a line. So many of you have been so kind and I'd really like the chance to say thank you.**

-DARK STARS SHINE BRIGHT-

She doesn't talk to me. Like ever. Oh, she talks plenty to everyone else. Especially at the beginning. That first day, I'm pretty sure the kid who bags her groceries got to weigh in on whether or not she should embrace her fangs and continue her thus-far miserable life.

Stefan, of course, said the Hallmark thing right from the start. "Whatever you want. This is your choice and _nobody" _he paused with significance at _nobody_. As if I anyone in Mystic Falls didn't get that _nobody_ was code for _My evil brother, Damon_. "Nobody will take that from you, Elena."

She crumpled into his arms and he made all the hush-little-baby noises that he's probably state certified in. And I stood there, relegated to the darkest, smelliest corner of the morgue-which is really saying something-wondering if maybe they didn't even hear me come in.

But they did. I know this because the second Elena lifted her head, her eyes found mine over his shoulder.

I've seen more beautiful women. Hell, I've fucked more beautiful women. But there's something about this girl. It's in the curve of her cheeks and the smell of her hair. God help me, because I'd give my left nut to be done with this soap opera bullshit, but this girl is my True North. And I can't get my fucking compass unstuck.

But that doesn't mean I have to prop my ass up for her personal whipping pleasure either, so when she stared into me, those dark eyes begging me for answers, I turned away.

She did a hell of a lot of looking at me in those first hours days. She watched me on the ride home from the hospital and again, after a million phone calls, when she swallowed her sterile little shot-glass of 'I've-made-up-my-mind-and-I'm-not-leaving-Jeremy' human blood.

Then she curled up on our couch and slept. Stefan and I had a bottle of scotch each without saying a damn thing.

He broke the silence first, all dramatic sighs and forlorn gaze. "Her world wasn't supposed to be this. She's better than this. She deserved better."

No shit, Captain Obvious. But I didn't say that. I took another drink and licked my lips. "I'll head out tomorrow."

Stefan looked at me, as if he had no clue what I could be talking about.

"She made her choice and I made a deal," I explained.

"Not yet," he said, and I wanted to laugh, but he spoke too soon and his words stole the smile from my lips. "I don't know if I can teach her right."

"Fine," I said. "But it's your job until she asks me. "

And that was that. She hasn't asked and I haven't left and Stefan hasn't broken down and eaten a bus full of nuns or anything.

I spend my days drunk and Elena and Stefan spend their days in the forest, living out some ridiculous version of Vampire Survivor or whatever.

It's beyond stupid. He has her in the woods fourteen hours a day. What the fuck does one even do in the woods for that long? I haven't got a clue-they're probably hunting Bambi or the Easter Bunny or whatever. But seriously? Two fucking weeks of nothing but climbing trees and drinking coon blood? They've got to be one Nascar Sunday away from getting married in a barn, wearing cowboy boots.

Jesus, when the hell am I going to move the fuck on?

Elena sighs in her bedroom below me, and I answer my own question. Never. I'm never going to fucking leave because Elena is it for me. Moth meet s flame... and promptly catches its ass on fire because, see, that flame likes torching things with wings.

A shooting star sails overhead. I watch it trace a silver steak through the sky until it disappears. And God knows I'm not some white knight who deserves a pocketful of wishes, but still. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's Rose or my mom, or hell, my long-lost sense of self-worth telling me to stop being this pathetic little pussy and get off this girl's rooftop. Learn to fucking laugh again.

I used to be...well, I used to be a dick. But I was better than this.

Bah. I'll figure it out tomorrow.

I move to a crouch on her roof. Crickets are chirping and Jeremy is snoring and I haven't heard her sheets rustle for a good ten minutes, so she's probably out cold. I spring from her roof to the grass below, as silent as the grave.

The heat of the day is still lingering in the air, leaving the wind warm against my skin. I hear an owl hoot and decide to take a page from Baby Brother's book, cutting a path through the forest. I'm too damn lazy to take the long way, and this cuts six minutes off the trip.

Leaves crunch beneath my boots as I make my way through into the heart of the woods. I take a breath that smells of trees and dirt and things I know I'm going to regret stepping in tomorrow. And then something-some_one_-slams into my back so hard it throws me chest-first onto the ground.

I'm on my feet in a blink, but my attacker is already up and running. And I don't need to see her tight little ass or long, dark hair to know her name.

"You want to tell me what the hell that's for, Elena?" I ask, brushing leaves off my stomach. She circles around to my right, moving from one tree to the next.

I watch her dart, her steps almost soundless against the leaves.

_Good feet. _She'd make a hell of a hunter if she wasn't dead set on spending her eternity sucking furry things dry.

I turn to follow her and then she flies at me again. This time, I catch her wrists, but she leaps. Plants both of her bare feet into my stomach and pushes off.

I could take her. She's fast, but I've got a hundred and fifty years and twice as many tricks up my sleeve. But I stumble back and watch her run, a blur of long bare limbs and ebony hair. She's wearing a big gray t-shirt and a pair of white cotton undies, and as far as I can tell, not a damn thing else.

It's...well, frankly, it's fucking hot as hell, but God knows that train's not ever leaving the station.

It's also kind of impressive, because shit, she's just a couple of weeks old and animal blood, no less, but she's got a tread softer than a baby deer.

More than anything, it's fucking confusing. She hasn't so much as burped in my direction in fourteen days and now she's coming at me like a wild cat.

She launches at me from the side, and almost trips on a root. I catch her arm and lift her to her feet.

"C'mon, Sheena," I say, smirking. "You should know your jungle better than this by now."

The look she gives me is feral, narrowed eyes and bared teeth. I can almost smell her hunger, it is _that _fierce. Hell, what is Ranger Stefan feeding her? _Is_ he feeding her?

She wrenches her arm free and comes at me again. And this time, some sort of instinct kicks in, because I dodge her and duck left. And hell if she doesn't barrel around, kicking off an old oak tree so that she's rushing for me again.

A better man would try to appeal to whatever the fuck is obviously wrong with her, but shit, I'm not the better man. At my best, I barely qualify as a _decent_ man, so if this little hell-cat wants to chase me-I'm going to chase her back.

We haul ass through those woods until I've got leaves in my hair and mud spattered up both legs of my jeans. I'm going to need two showers and my boots are probably beyond saving, and honestly, I couldn't care less.

There's something about this. Maybe it's being just out of Elena's grasp. Or maybe it has to do with the way she grunts when she runs hard, or the flash of fangs I can see when she gets close. Whatever it is, it's working wicked voodoo on me. And it's working her into a frenzy.

And yeah, fuck it, maybe I want to call her bluff. So, the next time she spots me through the trees, I stand still. She sinks down into her haunches like a big cat, her eyes flashing in the moonlight.

And that's when it hits me. I know why she's here. I know why she's running me down all over this forest in the middle of the night.

Elena wants to _hunt_.

Humans are too much and woodland critters aren't enough. Split the difference and you end up with...well, apparently you end up with me.

I haven't got a damn clue what that means, but before I can figure it out, Elena slams into me. A hundred and twelve pounds isn't nearly enough to topple me, vampire or not. But she looks and smells like an invitation, so I go down like a brick.

My back hits first, mashing sticks and leaves and soft patches of moss that turn the air sweet around us. Elena comes down on my chest, all soft curves and ferocious eyes.

I gaze up at her vampire face, smirking. "Wanna tell me-

My words are cut off when she knots her fingers in my hair, yanking my head to the left. I take a sharp breath and hold onto her hips.

I don't move And I should earn a medal of valor for that shit, because I can _hear_ her lick her fangs near my neck.

I feel her grow tense on top of me and I know that rational Elena-the non veiny-eyed one who worries and furrows and doesn't chase friends-is close to reappearing. But I'm not ready for this wild child to go. Not yet.

"Go on," I say softly, as I arch my neck towards her. I keep it small. Light. Hoping that she won't notice. And that I won't lose my mind.

She holds her breath. For one insanely mind-fucking moment, I think she's going to do it. I feel her fangs scrape my flesh and I groan like she's stroking my cock. Which...well, yeah. It's a little like that.

But in the end, Elena is exactly who she's always been. Scared to fucking death of everything she doesn't understand.

She tosses herself off of me, landing in a crouch a few feet away. I raise myself up on my elbows and pant as I watch her watching me. Her hair and eyes are wild.

She's breathtaking. Like, it is a good damn thing I don't need to breathe, because I literally cannot force air into my lungs right now. What I wouldn't fucking pay to see her sink her teeth into some fear-pumped little high-schooler. Hell, they were all putty in her hands before. And now? Yeah, it'd be vampire porn. Really fucking good vampire porn.

Before my thoughts can linger, Elena sucks in a breath, like she's shaking something off. She stands up primly and marches forward, flipping her stick-straight hair around her shoulders, like she's ready for a job interview and not tromping barefoot though the forest wearing her boyfriend's t-shirt.

She's got her bitchy turned up so high I can practically hear it.

"Don't say anything about this," she growls.

I cock my head left, laughing. "You must have mistaken me for the guy you're fucking. I don't take orders, Elena."

She flinches, but I can see it doesn't faze her. Of course it doesn't. Despite what Stefan, Vampire Brother Theresa would like to say, turning doesn't just bring out how much you _care about people_. It pumps out every selfish, ugly thing in you at full volume. Surround sound with extra bass.

And sweet as she is, Elena has a selfish streak a mile wide.

"I didn't mean anything, okay? No one needs to freak out," she says. Just a little bit softer. It's not quite a command, but it's not a request either.

She gives me the head tilt and the Disney Princess eyes, but it's a wasted effort. Because I've had it up to my mother-fucking eyebrows with her proprietary bullshit.

She must see it in my eyes. The you-are-fucking-with-the-wrong-guy smirk. She tries to bolt, but I'm done playing now. And I've got a lot of years on this little baby, who's still practically drooling around her fangs.

I fly at her before she can even get up to full speed, hauling her back by the collar of my brother's t-shirt. I pin her back against a tree and hold her there with my body, shoulders to pelvis. Because-fuck it. It's not like we weren't _right here_ in that flea-bitten Motel No-Tell, thirty days ago. She flails and snaps, but past all the struggle and the hissing there's still that thin current of sex that rides beneath every damn thing we do.

I put my fingers in her hair, my thumb trailing down her cheek. She stills at my touch, her eyes so human that for a second, I almost fall for it. Almost.

"You should be careful tossing around your marching orders, Elena," I say. "I'll say what I want. I'll do what I want."

"You stayed when Stefan told you to," she says.

I'm a little surprised she heard that, that she was awake and didn't let on. I'm a little more surprised by her tone. I can't tell if she's disgusted with Stefan or me or maybe just the world in general.

But I thread my hand deeper into her hair and look at her lips. "I'll leave when I like, Elena. We both know I don't have a reason to stay."

She struggles again, and I press a thigh between her legs, daring her to make me drive my point home. She doesn't. "See, Elena, this little game of ours-it's over. As much as you want to play with fire, at the end of the day, you're going to curl up with your guilty conscious and your precious, neutered vampire."

She sputters, mouth twisting like she'd do anything to hold in the words she's about to say. But impulse control is a bitch when you're a vampire. "Why does it matter now?" she asks, eyes closing, because she hates herself for this. For the horrible truth of this. "It's always been this way. Why do you suddenly care?"

I laugh at her and step back, watching her drop to her feet. "That's just it, Elena. It's not that I suddenly care. It's more like suddenly...I _don't_."

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Don't profit from it. Don't sue me, please. I am a poor, poor mama.

_**A/N: First off, reviewers! ((LOVES ON YOU)) You are the best! I tried really hard to reply to everyone, really really tried, but I know I missed a few of the later ones and may have missed a few here and there. But I am loving talking to you guys, so I'm going to keep trying because I truly am SO grateful for your reviews. Keep them coming-I live for them, I really do. :-)**_

_**Secondly, please don't give up on the possibility of a happy ending. The bitter is in *overdrive* for a portion of this chapter. Damon is ROUGH in this one, but I feel like it's really necessary and we all know deep down inside I wouldn't be writing this if things aren't going to be getting less bitter. It's also stoopid long, because I really felt like I had to add the second scene. Which needs more editing and tweaking, but GAH, you've waited long enough, right? Right? (Please forgive typos and ick!)**_

_**I'm writing like the wind and should have Chapter 3 up mid-week. Reviews do push me faster! ;-)**_

-Chapter 2-

I find her in the passenger seat of my car three days later. She's wearing a black bra and a pair of cut off denim shorts. I don't know where her shirt went and I don't care. Most days, I'd offer a finger or two for a long look at this much bare Elena skin, but it loses a little something when she's covered chin to collar-bone in half-dried blood.

I pause halfway inside the car and she looks up at me, tears streaking through her mascara to drip into the mess on her neck and chest.

"I messed up," she says.

_No, really?_

For one tiny part of a second, I think about laughing at her. Taunting her for folding like a cheap towel in her first month . But let's face it, Elena brings out every chivalrous, chest-beating, protective thing in me. Especially when she cries.

I don't ask questions and I don't take her home. It'd be a hell of a lot easier, but she doesn't look too ready for domestic life and let's face it, I'm not chomping at the bit to cover up that bra.

I take the highway an exit or two away and park behind a truck stop with a little shop in the front. Elena waits in the car without asking questions while I buy her a package of baby wipes and a tank top with _Virginia is for Lovers_ emblazoned across the front. Not perfect, but I didn't find any with _Virginia is for Cock-Teasing Baby Vampire Chicks_ so I had to make do.

She's got the windows down when I get out there. God knows we need the fresh air. The smell of fresh blood makes my mouth water, but once it starts crusting up and baking in the July heat, it's a whole different story.

Elena's scrubbing down with the wipes when her phone rings, buzzing across my dashboard with a saint's name flashing on the screen.

"It's Stefan," I say unnecessarily.

She pauses her wipe-down, her shoulders tensing. "I-I can't."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not your fucking secretary. He's _your_ soul mate. Deal with it."

"I just can't say it. Not to him." She turns her tired eyes on me now, biting her lip in a way that looks a hell of a lot like begging.

" You don't care if he knows, you just don't care to be the person doing the telling," I say, just to be sure. Just to make sure she hears how fucked up that is.

She laughs and it's a miserable sound. "Haven't you heard? I care about _everything_, Damon."

The phone starts it's dance again and I figure, what the hell. Nothing makes me quite as happy as getting Stefan all twitchy and shit.

"Elena's Answering Service," I say by way of greeting.

"She's with you?" he asks, clearly relieved.

And not jealous.

Kind of pisses me off. I dry-humped this girl against a support beam not thirty days ago, he could at least muster a _little_ concern. Of course, he doesn't need to be jealous. Because he's the fucking Chosen One.

"Where are you? What are you doing?" Stefan asks.

"We eloped," I say. "Couldn't take all the stolen looks and inner longing, so we headed out to Vegas. It was a beautiful ceremony. Elvis officiated."

Elena goes back to her sponge-bath, not even bothering with an eye-roll. But Stefan gives a testy little sniff that makes me feel much better. "Can you be serious for one second, Damon?"

"Things are plenty serious," I say more softly, hoping he'll catch my drift.

He does.

The pause is bigger than I expected. It goes on for long, dramatic seconds and he needs to knock it off. He should _know _that she can hear everything he is or isn't saying now.

"She slipped," he says, all big sigh and disappointment with a capital 'D.' "And she came to you, not me?"

Now he's jealous? _Now_?

I'm going to kill him. I'm going to take that fucking bottle of hair gel he lives by and shove it in his-

"Is she alright?" he asks. "Is she safe?"

I'm gritting my teeth so hard, I'm going to break my jawbone. "She's fine."

"Where are you?"

"She's fine," I say again. And that's all he's getting, because he's occupying the first ten slots on my shit list right now. If I tell him, he'll rush out here in his little college professor sports-car with a furrowed brow and a mug full of a bunny blood and...well like I said, I'm going to kill him.

Another pause. "Will she talk to me?"

Elena shakes her head. Just once.

"Yeah, she's still processing or whatever," I say.

"Tell her I love her. That we'll figure it out."

"Yeah, funny thing is, she can hear you just fine. But you knew that already, right?"

I hang up the phone before he can respond. Elena pretends not to notice, but her hands are shaking and she's breathing a little harder, though she doesn't really need to breathe at all.

She collects all her bloody little diaper wipes into a paper bag and then shimmies into a pink tank top and fixes her ponytail. And, just like that, she looks like a girl who's never seen an artery, let alone sunk her teeth into one.

"So, what? You're not even going to ask me?" she says.

I shrug. "What's to ask? You cracked. Had a taste of real blood and now you're drowning in self-condemnation. This is how you roll, Elena. It's what you do."

Elena digests this while I start the car. While I steer us out of the parking lot, she pulls her feet up on the seat and rests her chin on her knees.

"For the record, though, I'm not cleaning up the body," I add as we turn onto the main road.

"I already took care of the body."

I glance at her, a little surprised. Okay, a lot surprised. She managed to kill a guy and dispose of the body? While shirtless?

She misreads my confusion and rolls her eyes. "It was this creepy guy who jogs in my neighborhood. He used to hit on the entire cheerleading squad. I think he's actually been arrested a few times. "

"Fascinating. How about you skip to the part where you drain him like a juice-box and somehow get rid of his body _in your underwear_."

"The smell hit me," she says, her eyes unfocused, like she's lost in the memory. Like maybe I'm not here at all. I get it. "I was getting dressed and then I smelled him. Sweat and blood and I don't know. Humanity, I guess."

She goes quiet then, reliving the moment. She finally seems to jar herself out of it, her heavy-lidded eyes going sharp with control once more before she speaks. "I caught up with him behind the funeral home. After it was over, I remembered that they have a crematorium. It's where they..."

"Cremate people," I say, filling in her blank. I don't say anything else because-well, because I'm fucking floored.

This little girl beside me is about fifteen minutes old in vampire time. It takes some balls to have the sense and moxie to deal with a body at a hundred years, but as a newborn? And in such an efficient way?

But then, why the hell am I surprised? I've seen this girl scrub blood off her front porch like it's just like dusting her china cabinet.

"What about the staff at the funeral home?" I ask.

She shrugs one shoulder and her hair slides down to hide part of her face. "There was only one girl. I compelled her to show me how it works," she says. And then she lifts her chin, all defiant. "I didn't make her help me. I did it myself."

Wow. Just fucking wow.

She's tough as nails, this girl, and absolutely weak in the same breath. Sweet and mean. Fierce and tender. She's every mixed up, beautiful thing this world has to offer. And even right now, when I hate her so much I can barely stand to look at her, I still love her like I've never loved anyone.

Without warning, her eyes well and her face crumples. Then it's all ugly sobs and lots of tears and I have no choice but to pull over under an overpass while she launches into hysterics.

"I'm horrible," she wails. "I'm everything I never wanted to be. I can barely stand passing by a mirror, because I hate the person looking back at me."

"Uh huh," I say, picking my nails. Wishing she'd shut the hell up.

"I'm a monster. Worse than a monster! I mean, Caroline could have never...I just put him into that oven Damon...I didn't even blink, I just solved the problem-I mean, Caroline-God, when Caroline killed that boy, she just fell apart...she c-couldn't-and Stefan would never-"

Hell no. Hell to the fuck to the no, she just didn't.

I'm across the seat, my hand hard on her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Turn off the fucking water works, Elena. Get your shit together _right now_. "

She drags in a ragged, shocked breath, her wet eyes going wide with shock. She doesn't like it, which is fine by me, because I don't really like her right now. But she does listen, her shoulders still hitching with aftershocks of her crying jag.

"Better," I say. "Now, as much as it pains me to admit this, Caroline's not a half-bad vampire. She's smarter than she looks, and quick on her feet, but she is not you. And you are not her. And way more importantly, _neither of_ _you are Stefan_."

She shakes her head, but I hold her firm, moving my palms to her cheeks.

"That doesn't make any sense, Damon," she says.

"Yes it does, so shut your mouth and _listen_. You are a vampire. I don't give a shit anymore if this is your life plan or your great destiny. This is what it is. This is who you are."

"_What_ I am," she says.

I drop my hands to her neck then, softening more than I want to. More than I should. "No, Elena. _Who_ you are. "

"Who I am is evil," she whispers, eyes welling again.

"Yeah, a little. And maybe beautiful, too. Jesus, Elena, get some perspective. Because if you only look at this through Stefan's view, you're going to spend a very long lifetime hating yourself."

Her lips quiver and her lashes flutter. "Maybe I _should_ hate myself."

Okay, done now.

I drop my hands with a groan and reach across her lap. She starts to get all tense and wide-eyed, like her virtue is on the line. Yeah, her virtue took a flying fucking leap out the window when she rode my thigh while sucking on my tongue. I ignore the urge to mention this, and instead yank on her door handle, pushing it open.

"What are you doing?" she asks, glancing at the traffic rushing by just a few feet from the service lane.

"Get the hell out," I say.

Her face is priceless. If I could take a picture, I'd blow it up poster size and mount it above my sofa, it is _that_ good.

"What?" she asks, voice small and shock.

"I'm already stuck with one whiny little bitch of a vampire, and I'll be damned if I'm going to double the pleasure, so hop out and run along." I give her a little wave for good measure.

She sputters, obviously indignant. But eventually, she storms out in a huff, her hair blowing around her wildly. "So, that's it. I'm still brand new at this and trying to find my way, and you're going to just leave me on the side of the road."

"You're a vampire now, Elena. You're not some defenseless woman with a flat tire."

She slams the door shut, but keeps on yelling through the open window. "I never thought about this, Damon. I never stopped to wonder what kind of vampire I should be!"

"Well, then I'd suggest you start figuring it out. And the next time you fuck up your perfect little life plan, find your way to _Stefan's_ car. He was your choice, Elena. Not me."

I'm not sure there's anything as satisfying as the sight of Elena in my rearview mirror. She's got her hand in her hair and her hate face turned on and I can't help but to laugh as I roar onto the highway, leaving her literally in the dust.

#

It's been six days since I left Elena on the side of the road, and I'm about to leave another brunette at the bottom of my stairs.

See, Meredith came over with a pretense of talking. And a plan of fucking me into next week.

Normally, I'm not too put off by an attractive girl climbing over the arm of my couch to get closer to my cock. And as a leggy brunette with an interesting mouth, Meredith is right up my alley. But still.

I actually liked Ric. And all the banter and good guy bullshit aside, I'm pretty sure he liked me, too.

It might sound a little hypocritical coming from the guy who spent a couple of years trying to steal his brother's girl, but this feels...icky.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm independent. I love my independence," she says.

That's right. We're talking about something. Or _she's_ talking, at least. I can't seemed to be bothered enough to muster more than an occasional grunt. She doesn't seem to care. She crosses her legs in her skirt until I can see about two miles of trim, tanned thigh. Then she leans in, hand on my arm, and continues. "But I still sometimes get lonely."

Her shirt is cut so low I can see the lace-cups of her bra. She's got nice tits. Maybe nicer than Elena's, though God knows that doesn't matter to me. Pussy-whipped little tool that I am, I get hotter over Elena's _elbows_ than any tits I've ever seen.

I slug back the rest of my drink and stand up. "Well, you're a prize catch. You shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to keep you company."

"Good to know," she says, and when she tilts her head, everything about her expression is an invitation.

Yeah, not happening. Too bad, though. She'd probably give me a run for my money.

"Well, I'm going to hit the sack," I say, dropping my empty glass on the bar. "Feel free to stay up."

"What if I want to go to bed?" she asks, sotto voice and lowered lashes.

"Stefan and Elena are in the last door on the left and I'm at the other end of the hall. That still leaves you six bedrooms. Take your pick."

I head for the stairs before waiting for a reply. I don't look back, partly because I'm tired and partly because I feel like a douche for turning down a hot girl who obviously wants to work her way into my pants. But I'm pretty sure I'd feel worse drilling Alaric's girl into my mattress.

I'm asleep maybe an hour when my door opens. Fucking hell. I mean, I know the girl needs to scratch an itch, but-

Wait a minute.

That's not Meredith.

I smell jasmine and sunshine and the barest trace of my baby brother. Elena's special mix. My mattress dips just a little, settling with her weight as she stretches out next to me. Funny. Isn't the whole bed invasion thing my gig?

She arranges herself next to me, like we do this all the time and it isn't going to fuck with my head six ways from Sunday.

"I thought about what you said in the car," she says. Not 'Hello' or 'Mind if I climb in your bed?' or anything else that might be construed as a normal start to a conversation.

Well, at least she doesn't bother pretending I'm asleep. I roll on my side and open my eyes.

She's a fucking vision, of course. Long dark hair curving around her waist. She's wearing a little cami and shorts set that turns her skin to gold. It's nothing fancy. Just pale and cotton and perfect.

"What about it?" I ask, trying to sound like a guy who doesn't give a shit.

"I thought about why I came to you that night."

"Yeah, that's easy," I say, yawning. "You obviously want me."

"More than I should," she says very softly.

More than she what?

I'm not tired anymore. Like, at all. I sit up and she continues lying there, her hair spilled out like midnight over my pillows. I can feel her eyes on me, moving over my face, my chest-exactly why the hell is she here, again?

And then she sighs. "That's not why I came here, Damon."

"I still think it's worth discussing."

"It's not," she says, and now I can see whatever hunger I saw in her eyes is gone. There's something else in its place. Something super serious and big-time bitchy. Joy.

I flop back down, one hand behind my head. "Fine. Get it out. Purge. And make it snappy, I have a booty call waiting downstairs."

"Meredith left when you turned her down earlier," Elena says, which is interesting. Not that Meredith left. Not much about Meredith is very interesting-but that Elena was listening? That's notable. Because if the grunting and rhythmic rocking were any indicator, I'm pretty sure Elena and Stefan were going at it in their pedantic, missionary way right around the time my not-date showed up.

"Is there a point to you being here?" I ask.

I see her brow furrow out of the corner of my eye. She's thinking. Thinking so hard, I'm surprised there isn't smoke trailing out of her ears.

"I came to you that night because it seemed simple."

"Simple? Spilling your secrets to your boyfriend's brother-the brother you routinely eye-fuck and sometimes dry-hump-is _simple_?"

Her jaw twitches and I know if she was human, she'd be blushing. "You make it sound filthy, and you know it's not. You know that."

I do know it, but I'm not feeling very agreeable, so I just smirk and let her take it how she wants to. She doesn't take it at all, deciding to ignore me so she can stare at my ceiling and shake her head. "God, I hate this."

"You know what I hate? Being woken up for no reason."

She ignores me again, her fingers hissing across my sheets. "Sometimes I miss the way it was when Stefan was gone," she says softly. And I guess that's supposed to be an answer, but frankly, it just sounds like another mind-fuck.

"No, you don't," I say. "You just miss having me eating out of your hand."

She rolls on her side then and her face is very serious and a little bit afraid. "You're wrong. I miss the way things were. I miss how easy it was between us."

I scoff at that. "Easy? When the hell has anything between us _ever_ been easy, Elena? Get your damn rose-colored glasses off and remember it right."

"I do remember," she says, and she swallows so hard I can hear it. "I know how we are, Damon, and I know it's crazy. But it _isn't_ hard with us. "

I open my mouth to interrupt her, but her brows are pinched now, her little hands balled into fists. "Just listen to me, okay? When I...when I killed that guy, I didn't want to think or explain. And when I'm with you, I don't have to explain. I don't need to, because you'll see every damn thing I can't bring myself to say. You'll just get it. You always do."

She's never said this much about us. Not ever. And if it's not too little with her, it's apparently too fucking much. I don't have a clue how to sort out the mountain of shit she just spit out. And it doesn't matter if I sort it out. It doesn't matter what she said or what she meant because she already made her fucking decision. Stefan, yes. Damon, no. Door closed. It couldn't be clearer if I had "It's Always Going to be Stefan" tattooed on my forearm.

Her eyes lock on mine, and it's just stupid what happens between us. Minutes pass. Hours, maybe. Hell, fucking galaxies form and collapse while we stare at each other. It takes everything, every _damn _thing, in me to pull my eyes away from hers.

But I have to. Because I am _so_ fucking tired of this.

I blow out a sigh that I hope sounds bored. "Yeah, well it's late, Elena, and the only thing I am _getting_ tonight is less sleep than I'd like."

"I'll go," she says, and she stands up with a sigh. "But I wanted you to know. And I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me look at things differently."

She turns away and I feel a question burning on my fucking tongue. I will not say it. I will not prove that I am still the same star-struck idiot that promised never to leave her again because god damn it, I cannot be that guy.

"So what do you see now, Elena?"

Or apparently I can.

Un-fucking-believable.

"I see that you're right. That I need to look at more than one angle," she says. "I see that I need help."

I flop an arm over my eyes and snuggle down like I'm ready to drift right off. "Stefan's a few doors down. He _lives_ for a worthy cause."

"I need _your_ help, Damon."

I uncover my eyes and glare at her. "Did you somehow miss the part about me not caring?"

"You care," she says, that same, selfish certainty back. But there's something else with it. A weird mix of defeat and honesty. "No matter how much we pretend otherwise, we both care way too much. This is how we roll. It's what we do."

She's using my own words on me. Mocking me. It earns her a grin, though I wish it didn't. I wish I could hold it in and be nothing but a dick. But tight or loose, Elena's always got some sort of hold on me.

"You really think I'm going to help you?" I ask.

She nods and gives me a bit of a smirk. "Even if you don't care, and you do, I think knowing how crazy it will make Stefan would make it hard for you to say no."

"Cocky little thing, aren't you?" I ask.

"I know you," she says with a shrug. Her smile turns sad. "I know us."

"There isn't an _us_," I snap, because she's starting to use that word too often. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let it start to sink in.

-TBC-


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Don't profit from it. Don't sue me, please. I am a poor, poor mama.

_**A/N: My readers? Best people ever. EVAH! So, they get an early update! (Yes, it probably needed more work but I wanted to do something to be grateful) *squishy hugs* So overwhelmed here. A quick note to anonymous reviewers and readers with PM blocked. A super big hug to all of you - I hate that I can't reply to you, but I do appreciate your words. You are the best. **_

_**I do have to say that I've had a couple of less than thrilled messages from those who seem to maybe want me to write Damon and Elena apart permanently. Please be aware this is a Damon/Elena fiction. If that's not your cup of tea, I totally respect that, but you will want to move along to another story, beause (bitter or not) eventually, that's where this train is going. **_

_**I believe the categories and pairing system works so that as readers we can choose stories that align with our tastes. This isn't going to be some ridiculous fluff-fest where they leap into each other's arms, but endgame for me is always, always Damon and Elena. I will always. choose. them. ;-) (Yep, I went there.)**_

_**Right now, they're a hot mess, and that's why I wrote this. And I hope that some readers will hang in there with me while I try to build something good between them, because I'm terrified I may end up all alone in this! WAH! **_

_**Okay, enough 'splaining. So, here's the chapter - SUPER nervous about it now. Half tempted to just bolt after the complaints, but I refuse to be a chicken. And some of you seem to like it. So, please, please drop me a line (even if you haven't before) if you're still with me. Hopefully I haven't driven you away (panics!) I'm going need some review confidence folks!**_

-Chapter 3-

They're doing yoga. Yeah, you heard me. There's a fucking blood cooler in the basement and in case you'd somehow forgotten, we _kill people _on a semi-regular basis. But my brother and his girlfriend are doing dolphin pose in the living room. Like achieving inner harmony will make their fangs disappear.

Either way, I'm not about to linger while they try. I slip down the stairs, heading for the front door. Elena breaks concentration before I get there, hands popping to her hips. "Stefan, I'm too antsy for this. I need to eat."

Stefan stretches up, his eyes warm and his hands dropping to Elena's shoulders. "I know it's hard. Control is tricky."

Lord Limb-Ripper is talking about control? That's rich.

"I'm just hungry," she says, and her eyes move to me as I hit the bottom of the stairs. As if I can explain.

"What? You know where the blood is," I say, snagging my keys from the table.

"Or we could hunt," Stefan offers, squeezing her shoulders like she's a boxer in between rounds. "It might feel good to run."

Passive aggressive little fuck. Why he's so intent on keeping her on Bambi blood is beyond me. It sure the hell hasn't resolved his issues.

"I think I'll just slip downstairs for a minute," Elena says, pulling free of Stefan's hands and heading towards the basement. The disappointment is etched in every inch of his face, but he smiles like he's fine with it all. Idiot's so blindly supportive he should be sold in the pantyhose section.

"I'll be here," he says. Once she disappears from sight, his good guy smile turns brittle and his eyes move to me. "I heard her go to your room last night."

I flip through a stack of mail, tossing the junk. "Listening at people's doors, Stef? Mom would be so proud."

"You think you're funny, but you're not. I think it's time you remember that she made her decision."

"Yes, Stefan. Good for you. I would have bought you a cake to celebrate..." I pause, tilting my head. "But I hate you."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem because you won't be here much longer to deal with me, right?"

Of course. The old I'll-leave-town-if-she-picks-you deal. Come to think of it, it's not a bad idea. I could hit New York. Milan. Maybe Bangkok-now _that_ is a crazy, fucking town.

But he's standing here trying so hard to look intimidating, his arms flexed and neck tendons like little steel rods beneath his skin. I can't just waste an opportunity to make his head explode.

I blow out an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, about that. I just don't think I'm ready to go. Mystic Falls is special to me. I have roots. Family. A home."

His eye twitches. "What you have, brother, is a promise to keep."

"What promise?" Elena says announcing her return.

She is seriously one slippery little fox. I'm not sure I've ever met a quieter vampire. Or a faster eater. She tucks her hair behind her ear and crosses her arms over her chest.

"The promise to leave when you made your choice," I supply helpfully.

"To leave?" she asks, looking between us. "I'm not moving in. No one has to leave."

Stefan looks down, all that macho posturing bullshit vanishing in an instant. He's got a new role to play now that the girlfriend's back.

"He means leaving town," he says softly. "I thought if you made your decision between us, that you should be allowed to have that choice without the other one here to make things hard."

For a beat, I think she's going to accept it. She just stands there with this cucumber cool expression, body still and calm. And then I see her eyes narrow. Just a little. But I know that look. That look could light a match, or-given the amount of styling product involved-Stefan's hair.

Oh, it's on now. When she turns toward him, I can't resist a grin.

"You made a _deal_?" she says and her voice is velvet over sharp steel.

"More like a promise, really," I say, stoking that fire with everything I've got. "Brother to brother. It's a man thing. You wouldn't understand."

Her hand flies up, because she knows my game. Which sucks. Things were a hell of a lot more fun around here when I could ruffle her feathers without working at it.

"Don't start, Damon," she says. "Just don't."

She turns back to Stefan then, and he shrinks down like a little choir boy, his eyes pleading. Jesus, has he always been this pathetic? Is this what _I_ looked like when he was gone?

"Who's idea was it?" she asks.

Stefan tips his head, somehow managing to straddle that fine line between smug bastard and pious lover. My brother's good at playing both sides of the fence. Think about it, he dismembers people, but he's _real _gosh-darn sorry about it, so it's okay.

"It was my idea," he says. "I wanted you to have a chance to be happy."

Elena pops her hip and it reminds me of a gun being cocked. "And you decided I would be happiest if one of you left. My _happiness_ was your motivation."

Stefan nods, looking relaxed that she's gotten it right. Of course, he's a fucking idiot. I mean, seriously? That boy is a few cards short of a deck if he isn't seeing the neon-flashing alarm in Elena's body language. I take a step back, because I'm pretty sure she's about to tear someone's head off, and I like mine where it is, thanks.

"So," Elena starts, "this is completely altruistic. It isn't about you being insecure, or, I don't know, figuring things would be smoother if Damon wasn't in the way."

Stefan finally cracks, just a little, revealing that self-righteous asshole that walks hand in hand with all his good intentions. "You can't tell me it wouldn't make things easier, Elena."

"Easier for her or for you?" I ask. Hell, I can't help it, it's a shiny, red button begging to be pushed.

But they both ignore me. Stefan goes back to the puppy eyes and Elena stares at him so hard I'm surprised he doesn't bleed.

"Look, Elena-" He reaches for her hand, but she snatches it back, shaking her head.

"Don't," she says.

Stefan rolls his shoulders back with a sigh. "What do you want, Elena? Do you want this little love triangle to go on forever?"

I snort at that and they finally glance at me. "Love triangle? This isn't a fucking love triangle. This is you and Elena and your never-ending break-up, make-up dance."

Elena's shoulders tense, but Stefan scoffs, his tone bitter. "I'm pretty sure it turned into a triangle after you kissed her."

"Technically, that last time she kissed me," I say. Because it's worth saying. Especially with Stefan in the room.

"Elena, this is exactly why things will be better when he's gone."

Elena flips her hair in a way that means business. "You know what will make things better? Me getting to speak for myself on the subject of my own damn happiness!"

With that said, she turns her back on both of us. She storms up the stairs with so much righteous indignation trailing behind her, I'm surprised there isn't background music.

I shake my head. "That girl has southern belle in her mother-fucking DNA. We need to roll in a fainting couch to keep up with her mood swings these days.

Stefan's too busy staring after her in stunned silence to respond. After a few seconds, Elena slams a door upstairs and my brother flinches. And me? I laugh out loud, because somebody should.

I turn to a stone-faced Stefan. "Well, I gotta hit the road. Blood to drink. Beautiful women to seduce," I pause to glance pointedly up the stairs. "But you have fun with that."

"_You_ did this, Damon," he practically growls. He's _all_ worked up now. Probably going to start frothing at the mouth any second. "You always do this. You frustrate her and confuse her...if you'd just left town like you agreed to, then-"

I don't even know how it happens. One minute he's blathering on and I'm getting pissed. The next minute he is off his feet and slammed into our front door. And, to my surprise, it's my hand pinning him there. My fangs are descended, and I can barely think clearly enough to remember there's a reason I shouldn't rip his throat out.

I don't even know where the hell all this rage came from, but it's burning through my veins like fire.

When I speak, my voice is a weapon in itself, low and cruel. "You are the reason for this, you miserable, little fuck. She came back for _you_. And when you had the chance to keep her alive, you were the pussy who picked her feelings over her survival. Again."

I give him a little shake, enjoying the way the veins between his eyes go black as his fear climbs. "You can bitch and moan about loads of shit I've done, Stefan, but I didn't have dick to do with Elena's latest piss-poor life choice. This one's _all yours_."

I throw him down so hard I hear the wood floor splinter at the impact. He looks up at me, neck bruised and eyes watering. And I straighten my shirt and pull my shit together, putting my fangs and my hatred away.

"Enjoy your mess, brother."

#

I stay at Ric's place for a couple of nights. Hell, no one else is using it, and I'm short on drinking buddies. Maybe if I lurk around long enough, his ghost will pop up and do a shot or two with me. Three bottles of scotch into Tuesday night, I think I spot him in the kitchen frying eggs. But since he's singing an Italian opera and wearing one of my mother's old dresses, it might just be the alcohol.

I don't know how or when I fall asleep. I just know one of Ric's shitty CD's is playing, the room is spinning, and I'm laughing. Then everything's dark.

And then there's someone straddling me on the bed, soft hands working my shirt up my stomach. I hum appreciatively, head still foggy with liquor and sleep.

Dream? Maybe. Who even cares?

I feel a soft wet mouth against my neck and breathe in the scent of jasmine. Blunt teeth scrape my jaw and I suck in a hard breath. "Jesus-"

And then this little angel is kissing me, so I don't say anything. I slide my hands into her dark hair and feel short nails scraping at my chest. I have one thought, and it isn't too sophisticated. _More. _

I flip her over hard, my hips settling between her thighs like a hand in a glove. The way we fit, the way her fingers feel against me, it works like magic. Works better than blood.

Our mouths meet again and the kiss is insane. Deep and long and so damned sweet it's like a drug. I can't remember where I am or how any of this started, but I'm good with not knowing. All that matters is this kiss. All I know right now is this girl.

I pull free long enough to tear off my shirt, the one she's got bunched up to my armpits now. She's writhing underneath me and I lean in again, flicking my tongue in the hollow of her throat while her knees slide higher up my sides. She lets out this shuddery little moan and then her lips brush my ear. It feels so fucking good. So good that I know I'm practically coming out of my skin and we haven't even really started anything.

I slide my hands up the backs of her thighs and she moans right into my ear. "Damon..."

"Elena," I groan back, slipping my fingertips inside her tiny shorts.

Sweet, holy hell this is-this is-wait-what the fuck-

I leap back from her so fast and so hard I literally hit the back wall in Ric's bedroom. Elena gasps in surprise as I drop to the floor like a sack of rocks.

She sits up in the bed, hair wild and lips swollen. I point at her, my finger shaking and cock still throbbing. I can't even speak. Not one mother fucking word comes to my lips, so I just gape and point like I've been struck mute. Which, yeah. Pretty much.

"Are you hurt?" she asks with wide eyes.

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I did crack a rib or two, but that's not the point. The fucking point is-the fucking point is-hell, I can't think of a point with my cock this hard. I don't have enough damn blood left above my shoulders.

I lumber to my feet and the words finally come, sharp and mean like I want them. "Killing, cheating-what the hell, Elena? Do you have a To Do list of Evil Shit to Master?"

She sputters in outrage. "This coming from a guy who's screwed half of Mystic Falls?"

"Hey, Newsflash, Elena, I'm single!"

"Well, Newsflash, Damon, I'm desperate!"

She stands up on top of Ric's bed, nothing but itty bitty shorts and a white tank top that's so thin it's not worth bothering with. And holy fucking hell, there isn't a thing on this earth I've ever wanted more than this girl, especially right now, but no. _Hell-no_ with a side of _are-you-fucking-crazy_, I'm not doing it.

She rakes her hand through her hair and jumps down to the floor, collecting her sneakers and a zip up sweatshirt from the chair beside Ric's bed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just forget it. Just forget I was ever here."

The fuck? I know she is not that stupid.

Mind you, I _should_ forget it. I should get a shower and about ten gallons of coffee and pretend it was all a very vivid, hot dream. But then, when the hell do I ever do the smart thing? Or shut my fucking mouth for that matter. "Forget it happened? Did you stop for one damned second to think about what this would do to me? This isn't just mixed signals, Elena. It's fucking schizophrenia!"

"I'm not trying to mix signals. When Stefan told me you packed your stuff -"

I interrupt her, still humming with lust and adrenaline. "Stefan? Funny that you mention him-because I'm sure you're one and only soulma-"

"He's not my soulmate," she says, interrupting me. She's tying her shoelaces so tight, I'm sure they'll break. "I don't even believe in soulmates."

"Oh, then I guess it isn't _really_ cheating. And I suppose because you believe I'm an evil bastard, fucking with my head for two damn years isn't really wrong. Is that the long and short of it? "

She stands up hard, eyes glittering. I don't know if it's fury or tears, but when she speaks, her voice is shaking. "No! It's just-it wasn't supposed to go so far-I just-God, I don't even know."

"You don't know?"

She huffs. "No, I don't! I don't know what made me think this was a good idea, because I don't think anymore. I have no filter. I just have some crazy fleeting thought and then I'm right in the middle of doing it. I'm doing all these totally insane things. And Stefan's strategies aren't helping, and I hate it, okay? I hate being a vampire."

"Well, boo-fucking-hoo, Elena. But your life sucking is not my problem. Neither is your piss-poor teacher or your lack of self-control. You don't _want it_ to be my problem, remember? So, the only question I have is why the fuck you won't leave me alone!"

"Because I can't!" she says, throwing up her hands. And suddenly, it's like all the wind goes out of her. Her shoulders slump and her voice turns soft. "I can't leave you alone, Damon. I've tried. _God_, I've tried."

"Yes, nothing says _trying_ like trying to sexually assault me in my sleep."

"You're right." She looks shamed to her core, chin drooping. "I finally get it, Damon. That night when you fed me your blood-I felt _so_ controlled, so violated. I never got how you could do that and still care about me, but I do. I get it now."

I rub my temples, trying to push back the headache that's promising to appear. "Elena, what kind of headcase are you turning into? Even I know that was wrong. Like _seriously_ fucking wrong."

"Of course it was wrong," she snaps. "I didn't say it wasn't wrong! I just said I _get_ it. I get why you'd do it. Because I did it tonight. This was my version of that. "

I throw up my hands, because there's obviously no shortcut out of this. I'm trapped in one of those emo vortexes that Elena sucks me into every other time she opens her mouth.

"Alright, Elena, I'll bite. Why did you get it? Why did you climb into my bed tonight?"

"Because I thought you were leaving. Stefan told me you'd packed and all I could think was that you'd leave. You'd leave like my parents and Jenna and..." She trails off because she's crying, and hell, maybe she should cry. She's been dealt more tragedy in two years than some people get in a lifetime. But I don't move to comfort her. I stand here like the vampire who she's shit all over, because that's exactly what I am.

"I didn't want to lose you," she says. "The idea panicked me and the panic kept getting bigger and bigger. And I didn't know how to keep you here. It felt like the only way. "

"Well, wake up and smell the reality, Elena. Your _boyfriend_ doesn't want me to stay and for once I think he might be onto something, so your plan failed. Though, hell, I'll give you points for cruelty. I'm not sure there's a girl alive who masters mind-fuckery quite like you."

She flinches away, face crumpling. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's horrible. I know that. I betrayed Stefan and I took advantage of you. " She shakes her head, her eyes going hollow. "I didn't think. I just didn't think. God, I _never_ think anymore."

I can practically hear my voice when she says it. Because I have said these words. Damn near these exact words. To her.

Shit. Shit, fuck, hell, I was fine until she said that. Because all I can think about is my hands on Jeremy's head. Snap, bang, and I lost her. Because _I didn't think_.

"I'm sorry," she says, and she's trying to hold it in, half holding her breath. "I'm really sorry."

She's grabbing her purse and fumbling for her keys, but the tears aren't going to wait. Her cheeks are wet and her shoulders hitch. And God, I want to stand here, cool and indifferent, but I can't. I just can't.

I breathe out, a shuddery groan, and my hands plow through my hair. "Goddammit, Elena."

The door opens and I'm across the room, pulling her back inside. I hear her purse hit the floor and her face drops against my chest. When she reaches up to knot her fingers into fists against my sides, her sobs shake us both.

"Please d-don't leave me," she cries, sounding weaker and more desperate than she ever does. For once, she sounds just like the terrified eighteen-year-old girl she is. The one who lost her parents. Her aunt. Her whole fucking world.

Later, she'll hate herself for breaking down like this. I know she will. And damn it, I want to join her in that hate. Hell, I already _do_ hate her. But right now, with her coming apart against me, I don't care.

I wrap one arm around her shoulders and she just cries harder, twisting my shirt and snotting all over me, I'm sure. She's hic-coughing and coming totally unhinged and it's...damn it, it's gutting me.

"Just breathe," I tell her, and at this point, my own voice is shaking.

"Okay," she cries, clamping her hands onto my sides, like she's holding on for dear life, like if she holds on tight enough, maybe she'll pass through the storm unscathed.

"Breathe," I say again, and now I put my other arm around her, feather soft even as her fingers press into my flesh until I know I'll have bruises.

"Okay," she says again, and she is. I can feel her muscles unwinding, her cries going softer.

Jesus, we're a train-wreck. I mean Sid and Nancy weren't this fucked up, and they spent their entire relationship wrecked on a medley of hard-core drugs. Hell, we don't even _have_ a relationship, so how the hell did we get to this place?

"I can't lose you, Damon," Elena says suddenly. Her words are surprisingly calm and clear.

It's an echo of my own voice not so long ago. A reminder of the panic I felt when I bit my own wrist and forced a dark solution down her throat.

I want to tell her she's already lost me, but I know neither one of us will believe it. So, right or wrong, I don't say anything. But I don't let her go, either.

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

_**DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Don't profit from it. Don't sue me, please. I am a poor, poor mama.**_

_**A/N: Um, yeah. I'm really *really* sorry. Really. I know it's been awhile (years!) but I really struggled with this. And then I had a trip, and then jetlag, and just drama and...yeah. I pretty much suck.**_

_**But! I'm back and I'll be replying like a maniac to all of my reviews (here's hoping you're still with me after this absence! Please still be there, peeps!)**_

_**Ok, so warning. This chapter gets a little more adult. Not bom-chicka-bom-bom Adult so much as bloody Adult. Honestly, I wrote this scene three weeks ago, and cut it because I was afraid of how it would be received. And I tried to write the chapter six ways from Sunday, but in the end, I felt like that scene was right. It needed to happen. So the scene is back, for better or worse. And after reading some things that one of my lovely readers (big hugs to Ochun) found, I guess I'm not ENTIRELY crazy in this scenario afterall.**_

_**So let's just hope I don't lost all my lovely reviewers by squicking them out or failing to convey something right. *chews nails* Remember, all of this is for those of you who review. I'd never ever do it without you. So click that button and make me write harder! :-)**_

****CHAPTER 4****

The day after Elena leaves my newly stolen apartment, Stefan calls. And apparently, I'm still brain-dead by my visit from the Hooker Vampire Formerly Known as Elena, because I actually answer.

"Stefan," I say. "What perceived crime did I commit today?"

"I didn't call to fight," he says. "I called to talk."

"You probably called to lecture. Your God complex doesn't really allow for ordinary conversation."

He pauses, as if he's processing that. Or maybe preparing himself to deliver some truly shocking news. "Elena wants your help, Damon. "

I shrug, though he can't see me. "I want a supermodel full of AB positive. The world is full of disappointment. Also, didn't you say it was time for me to go?"

"I did," he says, "but in the end, it's not about me. It's about her."

"Is anything _not_ about her anymore?" I root through the kitchen cupboards irritably, finding two packs of ramen noodles and some mismatched coffee mugs. Jesus, Ric, don't you have an emergency bottle stashed somewhere around here?

"You know it's not like that," Stefan says. "You guys are close. She worries when you're not here. She's a worrier."

"No, she's a controlling little bitch who likes to keep her thumb on me. "

Stefan sighs and I can practically see him rubbing a hand over his eyes on the other end of the line. "Either way, Damon, I think maybe she's right."

"You'd think Elena was right if she told you to eat shit and dance the cha-cha."

That seems to snap him to attention. His tone goes cold and hard. "Don't you think I'd look for any reason for this to be a bad idea? Any reason at all."

He's got me there. I frown at the counter. "Go on."

"Look, she needs to learn about her new life. Caroline's too young to teach her and I...well, I don't know if she believes a strictly animal diet is a good idea. And given my record, I can't blame her."

"I'm not Master Miyagi of the vampire race, Stefan. And isn't this going to cut in to all your starry-eyed alone time?"

He gives a long, low sigh. "I just want her happy, Damon."

"Then I'd recommend some strong pharmaceutical assistance."

"She doesn't need drugs. She needs you," he says, and while I don't believe it, it's clear he does. And that keeps me quiet. He takes a breath and drops his voice to a murmur. "I know how the two of you are. You make her laugh. She makes you..." he drops off in another sigh. "I love her more than I've ever loved anyone, but she still finds something in you. Something I can't give her."

God, he is one depressing bastard. I think of telling him as much. Hell, a dozen snappy remarks are burning at my lips, but some sentimental big brother bullshit holds my tongue.

This is how Stefan falls to pieces. Ever since he was a kid. Like when he figured out Santa Claus. He starts looking at the facts too hard and too long and suddenly the black and white world he so desperately craves smears into muddy gray. And he can't handle it. Never cold.

Instead of answering him, I open and close random drawers in Alaric's kitchen. I find some wooden spoons and a cheap whisk, but no booze. And no answers to how the fuck to toe the line between ruthless hell-raiser and vaguely concerned sibling. For the record, things were a lot damn easier when I was the villain of our little story.

Finally I sigh, leaning against the fridge. "I'm not going to blow sunshine up your ass, here, Stefan. It would be better for you if I left."

"For me, yes. But not for her."

"What, you think I'm good for her? " I stop, scoffing at the idea. "I'm not _good_ for Elena. When she's with me, my head is ten kinds of fucked up. I don't care, Stefan. Not about her having a boyfriend or about the fact that my _brother_ happens to be said boyfr-"

"I don't think that's what I am," he says, and I hear him swallow hard on the other end of the line. "I thought so at first, but I don't know. She's different. Everything's different."

How this morose mother-fucker came from the same uterus as me is an absolute mystery.

Hell, maybe he's the butler's kid.

I sink into a chair and stare at one of Ric's jackets hanging by the door. "Of course things are different. She's a newborn vampire. You can't expect her to be ready for declarations of eternity-hell, she probably still hasn't figured out how to talk without cutting her tongue on her fangs."

"You can help her with that. With all of it."

"So what's your grand plan, Eeyore? You want me to play bad teacher so she appreciates you? Or maybe just talk you up in between biting lessons? Ooh, maybe I can pass her a note with checkboxes for whether or not she still loves you forever?"

"The plan, Damon, is for _you_ to do exactly what you always do with Elena."

What the hell does he mean? What I always do? Fight with her? Placate her? Eye fuck her? Instead, of those, I say, "And what's that, Stefan?"

"Balance her."

I roll my eyes so hard, I'm surprised they don't fall out. "How very Hallmark Channel of you. But, what makes you sure I want to play along?"

"Because you don't know how to leave her anymore," he says, and then so softly even I almost miss it he adds, "And neither do I."

**TWO DAYS LATER**

It's been one of those days. One of those days where my skin itches and my mind races like a rabbit after a crack-laced carrot. I want something. Need something. Something I can't quite get my finger on. I can't even make a fucking drink without being haunted by strange, detached memories-the feel of my mother's fingers on my brow. The sound of Ric's laughter. The smell of my father's tobacco. The taste of Elena's mouth.

All the journal-scrawling mope-it-out genes landed in Stefan's DNA which leaves me climbing the mother fucking walls when a mood like hits. I need to feed. And drink. And be the hell away from this apartment. So, for the second day in a row, I ignore my agreement to train Elena and I head out to drink.

I find the one nightclub near Mystic Falls. It's not exactly top shelf, but one more glass of shitty scotch at The Grille and so help me God, I will tear somebody's arms off. So, here I am. A different shitty scotch in my glass, and a redhead in my lap. Her blonde roommate is whispering in my ear, too, so it's shaping up to be a decent night.

Until I smell her. That same sweet-haunting jasmine mix that I know better than I should. Better than I ever wanted to.

"Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?" the redhead says, walking long pink fingernails up my chest.

"We've got a beautiful apartment," the blonde says. She's nothing but tits and blue eyes, and the kind of beestung lips that would look amazing wrapped around my cock.

God knows, I could stand a good fucking. I should go. Two years ago, I would have gone with them twenty minutes ago.

"It overlooks the water," the redhead says, and then she plants her hand on my inner thigh and leans in to give me a view down her shirt. "The bedroom, I mean. It overlooks the water."

They're plenty hot, but they smell like cheap booze and too much perfume. And sad as it is, the hottest thing about this is that I can _feel_ Elena watching me. So, petty little shit that I am, I make sure I look damn comfortable. And interested.

"Do you want to come, Damon?"

"Don't make us beg."

"Tempting," I tell them, "but I'm afraid I may have plans."

"So, blow them off," the blonde laughs, her fingers threading into my hair. "We can make it worth your while."

I hear Elena moving through the dance floor, making her way over to me. And I don't want to think about how fucked up it is that I can pick her quiet footsteps out of all the chaos in this bar tonight, but I can. I am tuned in like a mother-fucking radio. As if I needed one more reason to hate her.

"We can blow your mind," the redhead purrs.

"I'll bet you could," I say, because I'm a damn fine liar.

They'd have to be nymphomaniac contortionists who juggle fire to blow my mind. And now that Elena's here, slinking through the only nightclub in the county on a school night? Yeah, it's going to take more than a low-rent threesome to distract me.

"He's with me," I hear Elena say.

Did she seriously go there?

I spin on my barstool to face say something, but one look sucks the words right out of my mouth. It was probably something witty, too, but now I'll never know. Just looking at her blocks all rational thought out of my brain. Jesus, I need a fucking lobotomy.

Elena's wearing her jeans like a second layer of skin tonight. Her lips are glossed as red as the itty bitty tank top she's wearing. It's not over the top. She's got none of that stiletto-heeled streetwalker flavor that Katherine's so fond of. This is something else. Dark lips and long hair and eyes that flash hunger and fear in equal measure.

"Well, I think he's with _me_ for now."

For a second, I don't even know who's talking. Because I've completely forgotten about the girl riding my thigh like I slipped her a few twenties to do it.

"He's. with. me." Elena repeats, and this time there's a thin dangerous edge to her voice, one that's aimed at the redhead's jugular.

Well, well, well. Look at kitty's little claws. I turn a lazy smirk on her, wondering just how far she's willing to go with this.

"Well, _I'm_ not going to tell them to leave, Elena," I say, because I'm waiting for her to pussy out. To give that little indignant huff and go crawling back to my brother. Because that's the teacher she really wants. The one who'll show her how to be every bit as pathetic and warped as he is.

"You heard him. So, I guess that's that," the redhead says and I feel her hand slip possessively over my chest.

"Not quite," Elena says. She lunges in with her jaw clenched tight, one hand catching each girl's face in a hard grip.

Okay, didn't expect that. And I sure the hell didn't figure she'd try to compel them both, but she does.

"Quiet," she says, moving her gaze from one pair of eyes to the other, waiting for the telltale shift of pupil and pitch of pulse. The girls breathe heavy and slow, and I don't breathe at all. I just watch, transfixed.

"You will leave the bar," Elena says in a low tone. "You will leave together and you'll take a taxi home. You'll forget all about him. About both of us."

They slide off of me without fanfare, slipping quietly through the crowd with blank faces and steady steps.

I try not to look impressed. And it's hard. Because I am impressed. Impressed as all fuck, actually, but I don't want to say that. Elena's already pretty much the center of the damn universe around here, and frankly, I don't want to give her any more ammo.

"Not bad," I say, but I direct my attention to the dance floor, where a couple dozen people are writhing around to some annoying Top 40 hit. It's a damn meat market out there, all gyrating hips and raised arms.

"No, it's bad. This is very bad," she says, and her words are distorted just enough to get me to look.

She's got her hands over her mouth, which hides her fangs just fine. But it's not doing dick to cover the black lines spidering down from her eyes. Compulsion is kind of like an appetizer, so it's not surprising. She's so bloodthirsty, I can practically smell it.

"I have to get out of here," she says, looking frantic. She turns for the door, but I snag her sleeve and pull her back.

"No, you don't."

"Damon, are you-"

"Are you here because you want my help?" She hesitates, but I move in closer. "Are you?"

She nods once. It's all I need.

I cut off any protest she might have gone for with a quick tug on her wrist. And then I lead her, or hell, practically drag her to the dance floor. Music thumps and lights flash, casting strange shadows on the dark floor. I feel the press of bodies and the soft electric thrill of hearts pumping warm, red blood.

Elena moans and twists her arm in my hand, but I force her to stay with me. I keep her moving and I keep her close. I know this is agony. I can practically feel the way her fangs are aching and burning with all of this flesh nearby. I remember every damn minute of those early months. Which is why I know it's necessary. Hiding in the fucking forest just delays the inevitable.

Bodies bump against us, and I see Elena's mouth open. A flash of dark eyes and white fangs under the strobe. She's straining towards someone. Ready to strike. I yank her hard against my chest, settling my hands on her hips as I guide her into the beat. Her fingers curl against my chest, nails clawing hard enough to draw blood right through my shirt.

"What are you doing?" she hisses.

"I'm dancing. What are you doing? This isn't a buffet line, Elena."

"Let me go! I will hurt someone!"

"No, you won't. Relax."

She struggles fiercely, face pulling into cruel lines and predator eyes. In this moment, she is every inch of the monster she's become. And hell if I don't think she's twice as beautiful as she's ever been. That itch that's been humming in me all day is droning into a frenzy now, working me into a knot of hunger.

"You can't stop me," she snarls. "I will hurt them and you can't do a damn thing to stop me."

It's practically a dare. Bloodthirst will do that to you. But a century and a half of experience will do something else.

I pin her arms hard to her sides and haul her flush against me. And then I drop my mouth to the skin just beneath her ear and let my fangs scrape her.

"I have a hundred and sixty years on you, Elena," I say, breathing the words right against her skin. "You can't do a damn thing I don't want you to do. Are we clear?"

She goes very still in my arms, her breath catching in a way I'll remember for-fucking-ever, I'm sure.

The music shifts low and dark, something that grinds against my ears and seeps into my skin. Something that tells me I need to end this little makeshift lesson right now. I need to straighten out my fucking head and get out of here.

I keep my face tucked in just beneath her jaw, maybe because I don't want to say this loud, or maybe because she smells so damn good. "Rule number one. You decide when your fangs come out. You. Not the hunger."

Elena's body is like a stone against me. And then it isn't. She takes a breath and her fingers uncurl. I pull back just far enough to see her face. Her human face. Her hands slide to my shoulders as we sway to the new song, the slow, heavy bass pulling me along for a ride I really shouldn't be on.

There's a moment where we just dance. I don't think either of us thinks about it. I sure as hell don't think about it. And God, if it wasn't so damn easy, maybe I would. If she didn't feel so right in my arms. If she didn't fit me like it's her whole fucking purpose in life-maybe I could remember all the reasons why I need to stay angry. And stay distant.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?" I finally ask, conjuring irritation from God knows where.

Her lips purse and she shifts under my hands, as if it's suddenly concerning that we're slow-dancing in the middle of this hedonistic frenzy. "I don't know. I've been looking for you. I've been having trouble. With hunting. Caroline said I should think about it, scope some places out -" she stops herself, shaking her head. "I just meant to look around. Then I saw you."

"When's the last time you fed?"

"I hunted earlier," she says, shrugging a shoulder.

I eye her tank top with a smirk. "Wearing that?"

She frowns, eyes narrowing. "No. _Earlier_. Stefan took me."

I make a tsk'ing sound and cock my head. "What's a-matter? Didn't find a big enough groundhog?"

She makes an ugly sound in the back of her throat and narrows her eyes at me. "Can you _not_ do this tonight?"

"Can you not beat around the bush, _Elena_? What do you want from me? What are you looking to learn?"

She opens her mouth like she wants to argue with me, but to my shock, she doesn't. She nods once and then licks her lips. "Caroline told me that you know how to hunt without hurting."

"What, without pain?" I shake my head. "That shit's for fairy tales. It's teeth tearing through skin. There's an ouch factor involved."

"I know that, but she acted like it didn't matter. That you can make it not _hurt_ them, even if it hurts. And I thought if it didn't hurt as much..."

I exhale slowly, because I know exactly why she's here now. "Then you could feed on someone. You want to feed on a human."

She flinches, as if the words cut her up a little going down. Good. They should. If I have a damn thing to do with any of this, this girl will look what she is in the eyeballs. She will not play Stefan's little "_almost human_" game for the next century. She will be a _vampire_. She will drink blood and break hearts and live with every mother-fucking ounce of passion she's got in her.

"That's why you're here right?" I say, pushing her. Poking at that bruise to make sure she doesn't forget it. "Animal blood isn't enough. You want something more."

Her eyes move to the people around us. Writhing. Sweating. Hearts beating, beating, beating, like a mother fucking drum.

"I don't know. I don't know," she whispers. Then she shakes her head, and I can see her shrinking, her fear pushing her down. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can and you're going to. It's not an opinion, Elena, it's statistics. And if you do it unprepared, you'll kill the next one too."

Elena's head snaps up, her eyes locking onto mine. But her retort dies without a voice because deep down in the places she likes to pretend she doesn't have, she _knows_ I'm right.

She crosses her arms behind my neck and shifts closer. Our chests brush and she bites her lip. I close my eyes and try not to take in air. Every breath is like a taste. Every taste is like a kiss. And it's all pulling me closer to something I need to stay the hell away from.

"You could do it with me," she says. "If you're there, you could stop me."

It's the best and worst idea I've ever heard in my life. I think about it for a second. Watching Elena feed, seeing her eyes slip shut and listening to the sounds she'll make. My cock throbs at the image, but I laugh like it's ridiculous.

"No chance, Elena."

"No chance?" she asks, and there's a devilish look to her frown. One she would have never, ever unleashed before she sprouted those pretty, pointy teeth. Back then, it was all big, doe eyes and good-girl urging. This is something else. She knows what she wants and she's going to get it.

She's Elena and then some. Every innocent, earnest thing I've ever loved in her is laced with something razor sharp. Something I want more than I've ever wanted anything.

She licks her lips and swallows hard, the smile fading from her lips. She tilts her head and her eyes lock on mine. "Help me, Damon. Please."

This is a bad idea tonight. An un-fucking-believably bad idea. I have ten thousand reasons not to do this. Really damn good reasons, too. But with the music thrumming slow and dark and her hands brushing over the nape of my neck, I can't remember any of them.

I lace my fingers with Elena's and move for the closest dark hallway. I grab the first girl I see. Don't know what she looks like and I don't much care. She's alive and she's drunk and after one slow slide of my hand down her side, she's ready to follow me to the grave. And Elena's right on me, licking her lips so close to my shoulder that it makes me shiver.

We don't make it far. A storage closet, if I'm going to guess by the paper products stacked around us on the shelves and the single, weak light bulb hanging overhead. The music is almost as loud in here, making the floor vibrate beneath my feet, making the shelves rattle around us.

I flash my fangs and the girl pulls a delicious face of terror that reminds me just how long it's been since I fed. God, I want to rip this girl apart and hear Elena feeding right along with me. I can already imagine her moans, the way she'll move when she has real, fresh blood -

No.

No, I am not this fucking vampire. I am not going to lose my mind and help her kill someone because I'm too mind-fucked to keep my shit together. I am not Stefan.

"Don't scream," I say to the girl. I pull out my human face, because she'll like it better. And then I stroke her hair away from her eyes and smile at her, watching her pupils go wide.

I feel Elena beside me, tense and poised, her fangs glistening along with the hunger in her eyes.

"What's your name?" I ask the girl.

"Maggie." Her voice is small, but steady. Calm.

"Do you know what we are, Maggie?"

She nods automatically, but I can still see the astonishment in her eyes. And who can blame her. Who the hell actually believes that the things that go bump in the night are real?

"Do you know what we want from you?"

"Blood."

"Just a little," I tell her, holding her face and feeling Elena move closer. "It will sting at first, but it will feel good too. Like magic. Your body wants this to feel good. And it will."

She nods and I tell her to close her eyes and be very quiet. And she does. Like the good little lesson prop she needs to be for me.

I slide a hand to Elena's lower back and urge her forward. She trembles under my fingers, so damn desperate, I see she's bitten her own tongue. The smell of her blood fills the air and sends my head spinning. Fuck, I need to shake this off. I should have fed first. Hell, I should have done a lot of things. Like leave town. Or stake myself on the dance floor for being such an unbelievable pussy.

I square my shoulders and shake it off. Now is not the fucking time. "Go closer, Elena. Just a soft push. Top fangs only. She'll scar if you bite too hard."

Elena's hands are balled into fists and Maggie's heart is slamming wildly in her chest and the music is still pulsing right through the walls and God, I'm about to come unglued. It's all sex and heat and blood in here and I'm fucking drowning in it.

"I can't," Elena whispers.

"You can." I grit the words out, determined to keep my cool.

"No," she whimpers. Shakes her head and clings hard to my arm. "It's killing me. You do it."

"Just try," I say, and hell, I'm practically whimpering, too. The tension is throttled so fucking high right now, I'm about to rip this little girl apart. Or maybe throw Elena against the nearest wall and fuck her into next week.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

Elena edges forward and then jerks back with a cry. She turns into me, burying her anguished face in the crook of my shoulder. "Please, Damon. You first."

Sweet fucking hell, I am not built for second-guessing.

So, I snap.

I dart in like a cobra, fangs latching onto the girl's neck so fast, no one has time to think, least of all me. The girl gasps once and hot blood fills my mouth. Elena's still there, pressed against both of us, her arm twisted around mine, the breath she doesn't need coming hard and fast against my neck.

I groan, half-drunk from the blood, and beyond-fucking-wasted by the feel of Elena so close to me.

Elena moans and I feel her hair against my face now, her body pressing against my side. Her thighs shifting aimlessly. I swallow again and again, trying to calm down. Trying to force myself to pull back so I can get her on the girl. That's when Elena's lips slide against my skin.

Then her tongue. On my neck. Shit. Mother fucking shit, she can't-

Pain flares through my flesh as Elena's fangs lodge into my flesh. Elena's fangs. Elena's fangs are in my neck.

She sucks once and my vision swims. Elena mewls against me and my grip on Maggie loosens. Elena's climbing me like a tree, arms and legs wrapping and her mouth doing wicked, hungry, amazing fucking things.

I tear free of Maggie's throat with a groan and hear her sigh and slide to the ground. She's gone from my mind in an instant. As is the lesson Elena just failed and the towers of fucking toilet paper stacked up all around us. I could be free-falling into the under-belly of hell and I wouldn't notice a damn thing.

I ease my back against the nearest wall and arch my neck to give Elena better access. And she takes it, one hand knotting in my hair while she drinks deep. Little whimpers spill from her lips and go straight down into my bones. It's all I can do to hold on. I've got one hand on her ass and one buried in her hair and I'm panting and grunting so much you'd think she was sucking my dick.

In truth, that would be easier. If she were on her knees instead of tangled all around me-if I wasn't so close to her sweet smell and her endless sounds. But I am. And she's drinking long and deep and I can't do a thing. I can't do anything but pray she doesn't stop, because fucking hell, I am lost in this girl.

I am lost.

I don't know when she stops. I don't know when the music turns low or when Maggie disappears or when I pass out, for that matter. I know I wake up with my head in Elena's lap and her tears dripping onto my face. I turn my head and swipe them off.

"You have got to stop with this crying shit," I say, my voice a little rusty.

She shakes her head, all smeared mascara and blood-stained lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Damon."

I have no idea what the hell she's sorry for or why she's crying, but I sit up, rubbing my spinning head. She must have finished off Maggie because I don't see her anywhere. Would she have already hid the body? How long have I been out?

Hell, it doesn't matter. What matters is that Elena can't handle another murder. And I sure the hell can't handle any more fucking crying. "Elena, that girl's on me. I drank too deep. I should've thought about it."

Elena's face twists in total confusion. And then she gets it. "Maggie's fine. She's fine. I'm the problem. I attacked you and I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop, Damon."

She looks revolted. Absolutely horrified by what she's done. "Is this what I am? Tell me! What kind of twisted, awful thing have I-

"-Hold on," I say, but she rambles right past.

"I'm disgusting. I just treated you like a blood bag. Like Klaus treated-"

I catch her face in my hands and her words cut off as I force her to look at me. "Would you stop being this drippy little washrag? You are stronger than this, Elena, so knock it the fuck off."

"How can you say that? After what I did to you tonight-"

"Let's make one thing very clear. If you knew what it felt like to have your teeth in me, you wouldn't be apologizing. You'd be blushing."

Her eyes cloud over and her mouth drops open, just a little. For one second, I'm seriously tempted to kiss her. Except kissing Elena is a pointless endeavor. It's like having a single spoonful of the best thing you've ever tasted. And then watching the rest of the bowl get pushed across the table to your brother. Twice.

I drop her face and shake my head, standing up. So much for Lesson One. Should have called it _How To Have A Monumentally Fucked Up Feeding Encounter With Your Vampire Mentor._

I check the door and hear the soft tinkle of glasses being cleaned and floors being swept. Good. Less people to compel if the need arises. Which means less time until I'm in bed and forgetting all about this ridiculous night.

"Do you still love me, Damon?"

You've got to be fucking kidding me. I turn around to glare at her.

"Jesus, what is it with you? Are you incapable of being happy unless you know you've got me by the short hairs?"

She doesn't look away, but she shakes her head. "That's not why I'm asking."

"Why then?"

"Everyone looks at me differently. And I don't even think it would feel so awful if it wasn't for you."

"Are you shitting me? _Everybody_ looks at you different, but it's my fau-"

"You don't."

"Excuse me?"

She raises up to her knees now, something new and dangerous in her eyes. Something that looks an awful lot like realization. God, she's really nothing like my brother. Nothing at all. Her facts are lining up and all the black and white is running together and she isn't scared. She is steadier than she's ever been.

"You don't look at me different," she says. "You look at me the same. Like you feel exactly the same as you always have."

I take a step back because this is new territory. And I don't want to be here. I don't want to be within a hundred fucking miles of the place she's going.

"You still love me," she says. Doesn't ask it, mind you, because she knows she doesn't need to. "None of this changes anything for you, does it?"

I finally throw my hands up, scoffing. "It doesn't fucking matter, Elena? "

"It does to me," she says. And then she stands up and comes closer, looking at me like she's never seen me before. Or maybe like she's never actually looked.

"It matters," she says again. She slips past me to the door and then her voice drops so soft, I almost think I'm imagining it. "I think maybe it always did."

And it's just like her. This isn't sincerity. This isn't Elena finally coming around. It's her standard protocol-dangling some vague sentiment in front of my nose before she confesses her heart, soul, and body to Stefan for the umpteen millionth time.

My vision goes red, rage flaring through me, but it's too late to fight. By the time I turn to look, Elena's already gone.

-TBC-


End file.
